


She's Dead

by brodylover



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Hurt No Comfort, Tumblr Prompt, all but wynn and alistair and dog are just mentions, i dont write hetero stuff so sorry about that, i guess sten has like a line maybe?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-02 23:51:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8688388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brodylover/pseuds/brodylover
Summary: prompt: "She told me to run, I didn't listen" Alistair x Female Amellcave-in, maybe a death, Alistair is buried alive, Wynne's POV





	

The cave in had been so strong that the earth had rumbled and Wynne had run towards it , knowing that the others were still inside. She had been sent out, to watch for anyone else who may try to enter, so it had just been Leliana, Sten, Alistair, and Amell inside. Dog ran past her, trying to get to the mess, trying to get to them all. She could hear him barking, excited at first, less so after time.   
They had just been some spiders, not much of anything. Getting rid of them would have made the mine safe again, let people get back to work. Amell was too sweet of a girl, really, too kind, she hadn’t realized that this could get them all killed. 

 

Sten was the first one out, carrying Leliana in his arms. She wasn’t moving but, when Wynne caught up with them, he told her she was fine. The swollen mass and blood streaming from her forehead made Wynne wary, but Leliana could wait. The other two were still missing. 

 

She traveled into the darkness, wishing that she could see better, that the rubble didn’t try to trip her on her route, but she was at least thankful that she could do any of this. Before, she had felt too old, her muscles aching, her breathe weak, but now she felt like she was forty again, was able to run along with the younger fighters, all thanks to her spirit. Even here she felt it, tugging her in the right direction, far more so than the smelly dog did. 

 

He was barking again though, excited, as if he’d found something. She picked up the pace. She could have cast a spell, given herself some light, but no, she might need it. She didn’t want to waste mana when there was a chance that little bit could be used for healing someone. 

 

There was the sound of rocks falling, but it wasn’t much, just a few small stones. That in itself was enough to make her jump, look around, try to see through the black if there was another cave in coming. Nothing was falling on her, not even dust, and the sound was continuous, as if something was coming out of the rubble, or someone was digging through it. Dog then. 

 

She turned a corner, easy to see now, the dropped torch a smoldering flare. She saw Dog too, digging in the massive pile of stone, trying to get to someone. It was easy to see what. She got closer, picked up the torch. She could tell by the armor who it was. 

 

Alistair. 

 

She ran the rest of the way, skidded to a stop at Dogs side. The animal didn’t even notice her, just kept at work, trying to free the man who wasn’t quite his master but close enough. There was a lot of blood seeping out from beneath the rocks, even if all that could be seen was Alistair’s arm. 

 

She moved her arms, let the magic fluidly move through her into her hands, and motioned the stones away. It wasn’t fast but she wouldn’t have been able to lift the larger boulders without it, and she tossed them all to the side without a care. She could feel it, as she got deeper, closer, as her arms began to shake, as sweat beaded on her skin and traveled down her spine, just before getting absorbed into her robes. She was getting low on mana. She’d need to rely on Lyrium soon and that wasn’t a good feeling. It was a necessary one, one she’d been taught to rely on, but it always made her feel queasy, worse now that she was drinking for two. 

 

There was movement though, the rocks falling off on their own. Dog barked and dug faster. Wynne stopped with her magic and fell to her knees, pulling which rocks she could to the side. 

 

Battered, bloody, swollen, and possibly broken, beneath it all was Alistair, alone. He was awake, but only barely, and he shook and sputtered blood in equal amounts. Wynne knew not to move him, the dangers of such a thing, but she couldn’t leave him buried either. The whole thing was applying pressure to him and, if there was another cave-in, he wouldn’t survive it. She had to get him out of there in order to heal him. 

 

“Are you in one piece?” she asked, forgoing all pillow-talk. She couldn’t drag him out only to leav half of him still buried. 

 

He nodded, gasping, eyes rolling. 

 

She took him by the armpits and pulled, apologizing as her joints buckled and more of the rocks fell to either side. He groaned and moaned more than screamed, but there was so little of him that was uninjured, he must have gone into shock. 

 

She lay his head in her lap and assessed the situation, letting the remainder of her mana trickle over his body as she felt every wound and puncture. A pierced lung, three broken ribs to make it so, a concussion, broken pelvis, broken femur, more rocks embedded in flesh than the armor should have allowed for, pressure cutting off multiple sections of limb and nervous system from said armor buckling and breaking. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed. She could handle this. 

 

She looked into the rock pile again, saw Dog still digging as best he could to get through it. 

 

“Where’s Amell?” she asked, leaving Alistair alone long enough to pull out a couple of potions, one for her, two for him. 

 

He licked his lips, tried to suck in enough air to talk, and coughed up a thick clot of red. She poured the potion into him. He needed that internal bleeding to stop. This way would be fastest. He sputtered around it but drank and some of it even got swallowed instead of spilling down his cheeks and chin. She’d have to heal him up a bit before the other potion, didn’t want the potion to heal things that were in the wrong place. 

 

“She told…” he coughed again, this time with less blood. Wynne tossed back a lyrium potion, feeling sick as it made her mana reserves tingle and come back to life. “She told me to run… I… I didn’t…listen.”

 

Wynne took another look at the rubble. She was on the other side, hopefully.   
Tears poured out of Alistair as much as his blood had, dripping down the sides of his face. It wasn’t in his voice, wasn’t depressed sobbing, was resigned by the shock that he was in. His skin felt cold to the touch. 

 

“She’s dead,” he muttered, with certainty, “she’s dead and it’s my fault. If I had listened.”

 

“Shush now.” Wynne wiped the tears away from his face, let her hands trail down his body as she plucked at the rib bones from the outside, imagined how they pulled away from the lung and pressed back together, the potion knitting them back together while she worked. Some of this would be harder than the rest, she’d have to take off his armor to get to the pinned areas. “I’m sure she’s fine. She’s a tough girl and she knows what she’s doing.”

 

“I didn’t listen,” Alistair repeated, “I should have… I didn’t listen.”

 

Sten was coming back, Wynne could hear him. He walked with more determination than the others did, heavier steps, certain pacing. She took a look back to see him approaching with another torch. Leliana must have been left behind. Hopefully Morrigan wasn’t so vindictive not to help the young woman. She had a good heart, underneath everything, if she allowed herself to see that, Leliana would soon be able to join the once more. 

 

“Sten’s coming,” she patted Alistair’s cheek, stitching the thick gashes in his face and head, thickening the skull back up, and clearing away the concussion, “He’ll help us dig through the rubbish, we’ll find her. She’ll be fine.”

 

“No,” Alistair was shaking his head weakly, “No, she’s dead.”

 

Wynne kept working, tried to ignore the panic that was leaking out of Alistair and into her, as quiet and stunted as it was by the trauma. “We’ll see about that,” she promised, pulling his skin back taut, pushing the piercing stones out of his flesh. Amell would be fine, she was resourceful and she knew had to survive this kind of thing. She knew how to survive anything. She couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t. She was just trapped on the other side of the cave-in. Sten and Dog would find her and she’d already have a fire going, be nice and cozy. 

There was nothing to be worried about. 

 

There was nothing to be worried about. 

 

Amell would be fine.


End file.
